


Dispossessed

by steelcrash



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 07:19:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelcrash/pseuds/steelcrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Losing Rose's affection and becoming disheartened with Pete's World, the meta-crisis Doctor makes a decision that will affect his fate and that of Donna Noble forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dispossessed

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

The Dispossessed

Prologue

I do not own "Doctor Who." That belongs to the BBC. Consider it and a few characters borrowed until the end of the story.

Standing under the stars, looking up instead of being out there, among them. Locked inside his own head, cut off from the universe, trapped inside a corporeal, aging body, dying by inches. He closed his eyes, remembering what it felt like, searching for the song of the Void, knowing he would never touch it again. That too, he remembered, the sound, the song with him since birth, his inheritance as a Time Lord. But no more. He was cut off from the Void, trapped in a dead universe.

He opened his eyes, stared up at the stars, proof the universe was not dead. It wasn't dead, just wrong. The wrong universe. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong life. Wrong everything. Only one thing could correct it all-the right heart beating next to his own. But it was lost on the other side, sealed off from this reality, and nothing would bring it back.

Chapter 1

He was late for work again, but it was a Friday, so it didn't really matter. He rolled into a sitting position, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, scrubbing at his face. He was more than late, actually. He wasn't going in at all today. He stood, picked up the clothes he'd discarded the night before, threw them on the bed. He shucked off his pajama bottoms, pulled on his jeans and t-shirt, padded downstairs to the kitchen. Mercifully, this time of morning, Jackie Tyler was gone, having taken her toddler son, Tony, to the library for story time.

Jackie Tyler in a library. Who would've thought? He allowed himself a wry grin as he opened the refrigerator, stared at its contents. Nothing looked good, but then again, nothing had in a very long time.

"You're ruining food."

He snapped around, seeing Pete Tyler standing behind him.

"Son. . .John, I. . ."

"What am I still doing here? That's a good question. A really good question, one I'm still trying to answer," he said. "Existential even. Wow. Haven't had a thought that deep in ages."

Pete smiled at the younger man. "I was just surprised to see you up this early, that's all," he said.

"Yeah, me too."

"Now that you're up, we need to talk," Pete said.

"About?"

"You know what," Pete said. "You. Rose. Everything."

"Oh, that," the man now known as John Smith said, mussing his own hair. "Yeah."

Great. Just great. Brilliant. Rose. No longer a happy thought. Guess the reckoning is here, he mused. He and Rose slept under the same roof, but didn't share a bed. Not anymore. They kept up appearances, but that was all. Pete and Jackie let him stay. He appreciated that, that they actually liked him, as opposed to letting him stick around out of pity. Now, that was probably coming to an end.

"Come on. You're going in with me to Torchwood. We can talk on the way."

Two weeks later

London

Donna Noble reached into her bag, digging around for a book, the one Nerys loaned her. "The Journal of Impossible Things," a book she *just* had to read. Except Nerys' copy went missing, thanks to Donna's mother. She'd called it "rubbish" and she didn't need to read it, substituting a copy of "Pride and Prejudice." For some reason, she was hankering for Agatha Christie instead. She crossed the street, popped into the book shop, bought her own copy of the journal, as well as a couple of dog-eared Agatha Christie novels for later. Happy she finally had the books she wanted, including the constantly going missing journal, Donna ordered her latte, sat down, ready to flip open the book and read it.

Except she suddenly found her latte spilled across the book.

"Rubbish, absolute rubbish, that."

Donna looked up, eyes locking on those belonging to the culprit who spilled her drink on her new book.

"That was a brand new book, and you owe me a drink," she snapped, picking up the soaking book.

"Yeah, no problem," the man said, taking a seat across from her. "Tea? Another coffee? Or a real drink, say later today, or tonight, or Friday or whenever tickles your fancy?"

Donna found herself taking a long look at the jackass who ruined her book. Skinny. Way too skinny. Pale, with freckles. Definitely needed sun. Brown hair going a hundred different directions but somehow, it suited him. Quirky smile. And his eyes. . .something about them seemed familiar. But that was crazy, wasn't it?

"So, about that drink?" he asked again, snapping her back to reality.

"Drink? Oh yes, a drink. In your dreams, papercut," she said, standing, walking out of the shop in a huff.

John Smith, formerly known as the Doctor, grinned. Things were going fantastic.


End file.
